


Stuck With Me

by 13atoms (2Atoms)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bickering, F/M, Married Master / reader, big 'Space Wives' energy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:27:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27642761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2Atoms/pseuds/13atoms
Summary: When the Master stretches his wedding vows too far an argument leads the pair of them right back to the courthouse, asking for a divorce.Request: how about a dh!master x reader fic where they're both super stubborn and super married but way too proud so they actually go to get a divorce still angry and sulking and start arguing in court but end up leaving still married smh
Relationships: The Master (Dhawan)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	Stuck With Me

“You made a vow to me, Master,” you spat, his name bitter on your tongue. “And you broke it. Bastard.”

For once this argument didn’t feel petty.

There was no joking, no promise of make-up sex, he couldn’t kiss it better.

Across the console room The Master’s hands were clasped, his hair tousled from stress and his forehead planted on his thumbs as he exhaled wearily.

No the pair of you weren’t being petulant. This wasn’t the bickering you secretly enjoyed.

This was an argument borne over his latest indiscretion to date, almost sleeping with a prison guard on his last misadventure. The pair had been half naked, making out against an unlocked gate, when you’d finally found The Master. His tactic had gotten him so far you felt sure your presence had only accelerated his inevitable escape, and yet his methods… his lack of faith in you to get him out… it had been enough to drive yet another wedge between you.

As soon as the dematerialisation process had begun he had cheerily explained his plan, how _genius_ it was. You disagreed. You had yelled and yelled, as tears filled your eyes and your heart ached.

There had been issues before. Small, insignificant cultural misunderstandings which were forgotten the next day. But you couldn’t see a way out of this. The image of that guard’s hands down his unbuttoned trousers, the man’s moans and swollen lips… you didn’t believe The Master would have stopped.

For the first time, you began toying with the black wedding ring on your finger, the gold-inlaid Gallifreyan irritating your skin instead of giving you comfort.

“It was you who wanted to get married! More of your stupid fucking Earth ideas.”

“Stupid?” You spat, “You said it was the happiest day of your life, you prick.”

“It was!” He yelled back, as though that was some _brilliant burn_.

You laughed bitterly.

“Clearly not if you’re willing to throw that away for some prison guard!”

“I was trying to get out! Since you were taking your time, probably getting off with the ex of yours!”

“How dare you! You didn’t exactly leave breadcrumbs! Maybe you didn’t want to be found. Get scared of commitment again?”

You could see you’d hit a nerve, and it brought you a twisted satisfaction as he stood up straight and raked a hand painfully over his own face.

_Gotcha_.

You knew his returning blow would be even crueller, but you enjoyed a brief moment of victory before The Master’s face smoothed into a serene, mocking smile.

“Only to _whiny humans_. They’re amazing, Albarians. Such stamina, _passion._ They never fall asleep mid-fuck, either. Brilliant food. Not like that garbage you eat on earth.”

“You should’ve married a fucking Albarian, then!”

He quirked an eyebrow in mocking, and you hated that he could make jealousy rise like bile in your throat.

“Glad we’re on the same page, darling.”

“I can’t believe you sometimes!”

“Well, you’re stuck with me!” He grinned, his sadistic smile specifically engineered to piss you off.

_I win_ , it said. _I’m so sure I’ve won_.

Your wedding ring had been on so long it was hard to pull off, but you managed it. The Master’s face dropped.

“Divorce.”

“What?” He balked.

“We get divorced.”

“Why would we do that?”

You could see doubt on his face, sincere devastation as you played with your ring, before balancing it on the console. His matching one was still firmly on his finger. You’d never seen him take it off.

“You clearly don’t give a shit anymore. You enjoy hurting me, arguing with me. We can go to a courthouse right now. Infidelity is certainly enough to get the paperwork.”

“You’re serious?” He laughed, hysterical and disbelieving.

You wouldn’t back down now, still seething.

“If you are.”

The Master grit his teeth, staring you down for a moment. You could see where this was going, neither one of you would give in.

“Fine.”

*

The Master piloted you to the courtroom where you’d been married, a few hundred years after you’d signed the paperwork. It looked different, but the architecture was still beautiful, almost church-like.

The Master had whispered to you that it looked like his Academy, in places. You’d shivered at his words, at the tears in his eyes, the happy way he would grasp your hands in his, get distracted or pulled away, and then reach for you, again and again.

It was eerie now, as The Master caught you up, your framed marriage certificate in hand.

“This is stupid,” you’d said at the time. “We don’t need this. We can just say our vows and wear the rings and…”

“If it matters to you,” he’d soothed, kissing your forehead, “it’s not stupid.”

You could still remember seeing the piece of paper being signed, leaving it on The Master’s desk as he’d dragged you to bed, both of you giggling as you got out of your formalwear.

He’d loved the idea of a garter.

Now the certificate was still in perfect condition, kept framed in your bedroom, long forgotten for the most part.

“We can burn it after, if you’d like,” he told you lightly.

You could see the tremble in his lip as he tried to joke, and you felt your heart lurch.

The line ahead of you for the front desk was diminishing, and in any other case The Master would have just marched to the front. Instead he stood beside you, playing a high-stakes game of chicken as the queue shortened and shortened.

When you finally reached the desk, The Master slapped his hands down, startling the poor man sat behind a screen.

“We’d like a divorce, please,” The Master announced.

The front desk attendant looked confused, reaching for his phone as he glanced between the pair of you. The Master held out the framed certificate for the front desk worker to take, and you could see the man frown at the date on it.

“Quickly. We don’t have all day. My wife would like to be rid of me as soon as possible,” The Master snapped.

You felt your temper cooling at his defensive tone, and you could tell he was hurting more than you’d given him credit for. You wanted to reach over the desk and grab the certificate back, but a more senior member of staff had already arrived to take the frame, examining it curiously.

“Divorce,” the Master snapped at the older man.

He was dressed in a suit, a splitting image of the man who’d married the two of you. A descendent, perhaps. Or maybe the three-piece suits just made everyone look the same.

“I’m afraid we don’t… I mean… do you have a reason?” He asked curiously.

You opened your mouth to apologise, suggest maybe you should come back another day, but The Master was already speaking.

“Infidelity. Mine.”

“Right. Um, how about you come into my office–”

As the man gestured for you to follow him, turned to leave, you finally spoke up.

“It wasn’t really… I mean”

You held onto The Master’s arm suddenly, clinging to him in a way which reminded you of your wedding day. He looked down at you, his eyes wide with hope, and your mind was made up.

“I suppose we were never that clear on… um… rules. And it was necessary. Plus I’ve done the same, and you know that, I –”

With a sigh of relief, The Master moved you to stand in front of him, close enough to kiss, his hands on your shoulders.

“I would never have done it if I’d known you would be hurt,” he told you honestly. “It meant nothing. An escape. From the prison, I mean.”

There was nothing but sincerity in the deep brown of his eyes. His uncharacteristic stammer made you only believe him more, feeling the warmth in your stomach as he looked at you adoringly.

“Forgiven?”

“You can make it up to me,” you teased, and The Master grinned.

He ducked down to kiss you, and you pushed him away gently.

“Wash your mouth out first.”

“Right. Fair enough.” He sighed, before turning to the officiant. “We’ll be having that back now, thank you.”

The man gave the certificate back shakily, and you tried to ignore the embarrassment you felt as the small crowd of other people in the registry office gawked.

_Let them_ , you could imagine The Master snarling. _They don’t get it._

The Master took your arm, leading you from the building with a bounce in his step, holding the TARDIS doors open for you after the short walk back to the ship.

“We have got to start arguing less,” you huffed, taking the certificate and tucking it under your free arm. You’d hang it back up later.

“Hm,” he agreed, “thanks for getting me earlier, by the way.”

“You didn’t deserve it,” you teased, and The Master laughed.

“Nope. But you’re stuck with me anyway.”


End file.
